


there you are (like an angel standing guard)

by writingthepostcard



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child Death, Dad!Liam, Grief/Mourning, Kid Fic, M/M, Past minor character death, Therapy, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23724910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingthepostcard/pseuds/writingthepostcard
Summary: The one where Zayn attends a support group for grieving parents, finds comfort in his loss, and maybe some friendship and love along the way.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 24
Kudos: 32





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I SUCK at summaries. 
> 
> Hello! Welcome to this fic! I haven't written something in a very long time - so I apologize if this is horse shit. 
> 
> This is a thing I've had sitting in my doc for years...and now that we're in quarantine I decided to look at it and give it another go. No idea when I will update next. But I wanted to post something so I feel a little more productive while having to be stuck at home. 
> 
> What I have written has been edited to the best of my ability. Apologies in advance for any mistakes.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy.

* * *

_Every time I take a breath and when I forget to breathe  
_ _You're watching over me, there you are  
_ _When I'm looking for the light in the middle of the night  
_ _Searching for the brightest star  
_ _There you are_

**(There You Are - Martina McBride)**

* * *

Zayn hates waking up.

It’s not the idea of facing the day and its many potential first-world struggles: like Adele, his assistant, forgetting that he likes skim milk in his coffee instead of whole, or missing the tube, or stubbing his toe on the corner of the bed while he gets dressed in the dark.

No, it’s none of those things. 

Zayn squints his eyes shut, if only to appease the ache of going back into a dreamless slumber and praying to God that it consumes him for eternity. 

His alarm goes off then, Pharrell’s melodic tune ‘ _clap along if you feel like a room without a roof because I’m happy’_ echoing off of the vacant walls in his bedroom. Zayn groans and shuts it off, thinking how ironic it is that ‘Happy’ is what he chooses to keep as his alarm. 

To be fair, he didn’t pick the ringtone, and Zayn smiles at the memory of tiny fingers pressing the button to download it onto his phone all of those months ago, and the giggles that emitted whenever Zayn got a phone call and the ringtone played. It was _his_ favorite song. Zayn remembers playing it over and over in the car, making sure he smiled when Zayn had to take him day after day to get tests and shots that he knew would make him cry. His smile fades at the memory. 

He gets up and stretches, his back cracking and his arms going sore. Zayn knew turning 31 would only be a downward spiral onward in terms of his physique, but he didn’t think he would be so _tired_. 

He makes his way out of his bedroom and towards the bathroom at the end of the hall, making it a point to ignore the shut door that’s right across the hall from his. It’s gotten easier, ignoring the door. Of course, it had been a gradual process to get to that point--the first month and a half after _it_ happened Zayn was on the couch refusing to go _near_ the room. He would force Harry or Louis to go to his bedroom and retrieve his clothes (or anything else for that matter) for him when he needed it. It was just too hard to walk past the room where a little person once slept every night. Where that person _should_ be sleeping every night. Where he would cry if his daddy had to go to a meeting and leave him with a babysitter. Where he would say ‘I love you, daddy’ when Zayn tucked him into bed and kissed him goodnight. 

Zayn swallows thickly at the thought of him, wiping his wet eyes before the tears even fall. 

Whoever said that ‘everything happens for a reason’ was full of shit. 

Because there really is no reason for a child to die. Especially his child. _His little boy_. No fucking reason at all. A parent is never supposed to bury their child, for fuck’s sake. 

It’s thoughts like these--these thoughts about him, about his short life, how unfair it was, and how unfair it still is, because Zayn is _still_ suffering, and will suffer until his own body is buried six feet under--that make Zayn hate waking up.

It’s not that Zayn hates waking up because he has to face another day--it’s because his son will never get to. 

* * *

Zayn walks into work feeling as though he’s already been up for twelve hours when it’s really only been two. He waves to Adele where she sits behind her desk and makes his way to his office. Unsurprisingly, Adele falls into step with him, handing him his coffee and rattling off his messages and appointments for the day.

“You have a 10:00 appointment with Anna about the manuscript she sent you. It should only take an hour--you and Anna get on pretty well. After that Harry and Louis requested, no, _demanded_ that they have lunch with you, so I got you a reservation at that really fancy place down the road--”

Zayn rolls his eyes as he enters his office, “Oh great.” He would much rather go to McDonald’s than to any of the incredibly over-priced restaurants in the business district.

Adele smacks his arm playfully before she sits across from his desk, “Don’t pretend to be annoyed. You love them, so you’ll have a good time regardless of where it is.” She pauses to smirk at him, “Plus, I got you the company card, so you can go crazy and you won’t even have to pay for it.”

Zayn smiles at that and doesn’t say anything because he knows she’s right. He and Adele have a very unique relationship, one that goes past just a standard assistant/boss relationship. Adele has been through _everything_ with him, and he couldn’t imagine a better person taking care of his daily schedule. After spending many late nights working through manuscripts and publishing contracts over the years, they had gotten close and knew almost everything about each other. They’re friends--actually, Zayn would consider her one of his best friends, next to Harry and Louis. Like them, he would trust her with his life. 

Zayn plops into his chair and sighs apologetically, “I know. It’s just been a rough morning.”

Adele immediately gives him a sad look, and her eyes flash towards the only picture frame on Zayn’s desk. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why Zayn’s morning might have been ‘rough’. 

“I’m sorry.” She mutters, eyes averting from the frame to Zayn, “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

He glances quickly at the picture, his heart smiling sadly at the memory the picture holds. 

_It was a normal day; Zayn was in the kitchen heating up left-over pasta and his son was watching television in the living room._

_“Daddy!”_

_Zayn smiled as he heard little feet make their way into the kitchen, and he turned around when little hands were tugging at his sweatpants. Zayn looked down and grinned,_

_“Yes, Benny?”_

_Benny giggled and shifted his body back and forth, his arms behind his back hiding something. Zayn gave him a look of pure wonder and put his hands on his hips, “Now, what do you have hiding behind your back, hmm?”_

_Benny only giggled again before clumsily handing Zayn his own cell phone, almost dropping it to the floor before Zayn caught it._

_“What are you doing with this?” Zayn asks, ruffling his hair._

_The little boy pulled at his sweatpants again, in the direction of the television, “I wanna_ pictwure _, daddy!”_

_Zayn’s heart swelled, “A picture?! What would you like a picture of, my love?”_

_Benny pointed to the television again, and Zayn could see the advert playing for family photos at their local pharmacy. He looked down at Benny and was met with large, pleading brown eyes staring back at him._

_“Pwease daddy? A pictwure?”_

_Zayn knelt down and secured his phone in his hand, “Of you?”_

_Benny shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes, “No daddy, of me_ and _you!”_

_Zayn kissed his cheek loudly which earned giggles from Benny, and he opened up the photo app on his phone, “Well of course, then. Anything for you, my love.”_

_He pulled Benny close to him and the little boy immediately latched onto him, his head falling onto Zayn’s shoulder easily. Zayn wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer, if that was even possible, and pointed the camera at them._

_“Okay Benny, you have to make sure to say ‘cheese!’, okay?”_

_“Okay!”_

_“Alright,” Zayn said, “On the count of three. Can you count to three, sweetheart?”_

_He felt Benny nod against his shoulder and Zayn chuckled, “Okay. Count to three, then.”_

_“One...two...thwee! Cheese!”_

_Zayn snapped the photo, and made sure to show Benny immediately after it had been taken._

_“Look! It’s me!” He screamed as he pointed to himself in the photo, his smile growing with every second that passed._

_“It is,” Zayn agreed, “You’re such a big boy, Benny. You’re my favorite big boy in the world.”_

_Benny planted a wet kiss to Zayn’s cheek then, “I love you, daddy. You’re my favorite_ daddy _in the world.”_

_Zayn had smothered him in kisses then, thanking the heavens for giving him the most amazing little boy on the face of the earth._

There is only one thing he wants Adele to do to make him feel better, but she can’t play God and make his son come back to him. 

So Zayn only shakes his head as a response, and attempts to give her a smile, “Is there anything else on my agenda?”

Adele gives him a look then, and Zayn sees her fiddling with something behind the clipboard she always carries around with her. She has a look of apprehension and nervousness--a look she only gets when she’s done something she’s not supposed to...which almost always includes conspiring with Louis and Harry. The outcomes of these things are _never_ good. 

Zayn gives her a warning look, “Adele…”

She huffs and sits up straight and lowers her clipboard to reveal what she’s been fiddling with: a pamphlet.

“Before you say anything,” she starts, “just know that I’m doing this because I love you. I love my job here and I love working for you, and if I’m overstepping my boundaries you can say so, because we’ve never reached this territory before. I see you as one of my best friends, but I also know we work together, and I respect you too much to have you think I am disrespecting you--”

“Adele.” Zayn huffs, cutting her off and giving her his _you’re-rambling-just-get-to-the-point_ look. It’s one he has to use often with her. 

“Right.” She grips the pamphlet in her hand, “I--before you say no, just read it.”

Zayn nods and she hands over the pamphlet. The title makes his heart stop.

_Grieving The Loss Of Your Child: Finding Support_

He looks up from the pamphlet and Adele looks pretty much as he feels; helpless.

“I’m sorry if this is like, weird. We’ve never talked about Benny and what happened to him. I mean we have, but not really. It’s just, Jesus Zayn, I can’t go another day watching you live through this without getting any kind of help.”

Zayn gives her a pleading stare. _No, please don’t make me do this._

“I--” he starts, “I don’t need help, Adele. I’m okay, I’m fine.”

Adele shakes her head, “No you’re not, Z. You haven’t been the same since Benny died. No one expects you to be, of course. It’s a horrible loss, and you should be grieving. But it’s been almost seven months--”

_Don’t remind me._

“--since he’s been gone, and...and....”

“And what?” 

Adele blinks. “And you need to move on, Zayn. I’m not asking you to stop missing him, or stop loving him, or stop thinking about him, of course not. I would never ask that of you, and I don’t think anyone else would, either. But you need to move forward. You need to deal with this.”

“I am dealing with it.” Zayn mutters, more to himself, though he knows Adele can hear him. 

To that point, he is dealing with it. In his own way. 

“Refusing to even look at Benny’s bedroom and refusing to go in it at all costs is _not_ dealing with it, Zayn. That’s avoiding it.” Adele states.

Zayn swallows thickly, his throat closing and tears already forming in his eyes. He knows what he’s doing, or rather what he’s _not._ He knows that avoiding Benny’s room is actively not dealing with his grief. But he just _can’t_ go into his room. The whole house, he thinks, is a vortex of Benny’s existence, and Zayn struggles everyday to make it to the surface. It took a while, but he’s been able to be in the house by himself, and though there are memories of Benny scattered over every inch of it, Zayn thinks he’s been managing just fine… for the most part.

(Although sometimes, sometimes it will be too much, and Zayn will find himself clutching his chest, struggling for air, praying his heart will slow down so he doesn’t go into cardiac arrest. And sometimes Zayn will _swear_ he hears giggling from the living room, and he’ll run there just to find the room empty. Or he’ll find one of Benny’s legos underneath the couch while cleaning and it will all just be _too much_.)

Entering Benny’s bedroom will consume him, and he honestly does not know the consequences of what going in that room will be. He’s scared out of his mind that once he goes in, he’ll never come out.

“It’s hard, Adele. To look at that room. To even _live_ in that house, it’s hard.” Zayn finally says, his voice shaking.

Adele breathes deep and walks over to him, gently placing her hand on top of his, “Have--have you thought about moving?”

Zayn’s chest constricts and the sob he’s been holding comes out, and Adele immediately has her arms wrapped around him. He cries because of course he’s thought about moving, about starting over in a new house with no memories. But it’s so hard when you wish so desperately that your son will come back to you. And the fear Zayn has of _what if he comes back and I’m not here_ is completely irrational because Benny is _never_ coming back, but still, it’s what keeping Zayn there. 

“Shit.” She mutters, “I was explicitly told not to make you cry before your first meeting.”

Zayn sniffs and he wipes his eyes, “Who told you that?”

Adele looks guilty. “Louis and Harry. They...kinda told me about the pamphlet. They figured I would bring it up to you first, and then they would seal the deal at lunch.”

Zayn scoffs fondly at that. “Typical.” He mutters, before releasing Adele and looking at the pamphlet again. 

“There are locations and times of different support groups in the area. It’s not therapy, exactly. But it will help you. It’s with people who have been through what you have. I really think it will help, Zayn.”

Zayn is immediately uncomfortable at the prospect of complete strangers knowing something so personal about him. He is about to give the pamphlet back to her when she shakes her head,

“Don’t even think about it. I told Harry that I would give you the pamphlet and I did. You still have to face them at lunch.”

Zayn frowns and looks at the pamphlet in his hands, thoughts of Benny’s smile flooding in his mind immediately. He puts the pamphlet face down on his desk.

“At least read through it, yeah?” Adele sighs, “Please. We just care about you. We want you to be able to move on and live your life. Because you’re not living, Zayn. You’re just existing.”

She leaves Zayn then, and Zayn leans back into his chair, stares at the ceiling and thinks.

He thinks about Benny, and how different things would be if he were here; how amazing Zayn’s life would be, and how happy Benny would be. He thinks about Harry and Louis and Adele, and their compassion towards him. 

He knows they have good intentions, but he also knows what they don’t understand; living and existing for him are the same. He doesn’t remember what his life was like before Benny and he doesn’t want to--his time with Benny was everything he could imagine in a fulfilling life...so why would he want to go back to a life when he didn’t exist?

* * *

Zayn rolls the pamphlet back and forth in the Uber to the restaurant. He doesn’t want to read it, not yet. It’s not that he’s scared, it’s more that he’s absolutely terrified. Of what, he’s not entirely sure.

He arrives to the restaurant and immediately spots Louis and Harry at a table in the front. He waves to the hostess and walks towards the table.

Harry hugs him tightly first, “Hey Zayn!”

Zayn nods and hugs him back, reveling in his embrace. When they pull apart, he feels a little cold and empty. Louis grabs him next, squeezing him tight and whispering his hello before sitting back down and pointing to the seat across from him.

“Sit down. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Zayn frowns. “Why does this feel like a business deal rather than a lunch between mates?”

Harry chuckles and wrings his hands, “Sorry, we’re just nervous.”

Zayn’s stomach drops. “Why?”

Louis points to the now crumpled pamphlet, “Because of that. I suppose Adele has spoken to you.”

Zayn nods and flattens the pamphlet, not surprised at all to hear that he’s been in cahoots with his assistant. Annoyance and anger flares up in him and he squeezes the pamphlet in his hands. He runs a hand through his hair before giving his two best friends dead looks, “What the hell is this, you guys?”

Harry immediately sits forward, an explanation on the tip of his tongue, “Okay, listen. We love you, yeah? You’re our best mate. You were there with me during Uni when I came out to my parents. You were there for Louis when his parents kicked him out. You’ve always been there for us, ya know? We just want to be there for you. We want to help you.”

“I don’t need any help, Haz.” Zayn crosses his arms, not believing a word out of his own mouth. 

Harry ducks his head and Louis chews at his bottom lip, “Of course you do. Everyone does. You lost your only child, Zayn. You haven’t dealt with it at all. We waited a while before bringing this up to you because we didn’t want you to combust, but there has to be a point where you talk about it with someone. I’ve already suggested counselors that I know but you won’t take their numbers. A support group can be a good way to ease into the therapy process. A lot of my clients--”

Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose, “Please Lou. Don’t use your counseling crap on me right now.”

Louis deadpans, “Everyone grieves in their own way and at their own pace. I get that. But this...Zayn, this isn’t healthy.”

Zayn raises his arms up in frustration, “What am I even _doing_? I’m not going out and drinking myself into alcoholism, I’m not having random sex with strangers, I’m not doing anything--”

“That’s just _it_ Zayn! You’re not doing _anything._ ” Louis exclaims, “You go to work, go home, and go to bed. You haven’t been to our flat in months. You haven’t been anywhere except for work and the grocery store since Benny’s funeral. I just...it’s not _healthy_ for you to be so secluded when right now is when you need a support system.”

Zayn stills then, looking down at his hands. His voice is small, “I do have a support system...I have you guys, don’t I?” 

Harry and Louis’ faces both soften and they each take one of Zayn’s hands “Of course--we--of course we are part of that support system,” Harry says softly, “...but you aren’t really letting us in. We will always support you, but you’re not making it easy for us to do so. 

“I miss Benny too. So much. He was my _godson_ , and I loved him like he was my own child. And I wish so badly that I could talk to you about it, about him, and about how much of an angel he was. But you’ve turned his name into a taboo. I feel like I can’t say it without you breaking. I don’t want to break you, Zayn. I want you to be able to talk about him without feeling like the world is going to swallow you whole.” 

Harry has tears in his eyes now, and Zayn wants to hug him and tell him that he’s sorry, he’s _so_ sorry. 

The squeeze Louis gives to his hand draws his attention to him, “I really think you should consider going to the group. It’ll be good for you, to get out of the house.”

“We’ll go with you if you want. Like we said, we are your support system.” Harry adds. 

“But you need to go, Zayn,” Louis continues, “You have to. We just can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore. You have to get on with your life. We need you back.” 

Zayn looks at both of them and releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The two are staring at him, now with tear stained cheeks. Zayn doesn’t doubt that his are the same. It hits him just then that he wasn’t the only one so terribly affected by Benny’s death. In hindsight, he always _knew_ , but he never saw it with his eyes. Zayn’s gut clenches at the fact that he completely missed it, his own grief clouding his vision to everyone else’s. 

It’s this that has him clutching the pamphlet in frustration at himself, because how could he have missed this? How could he have missed the fact that his best friends might have needed him just as much as he needed them? 

“Okay,” Zayn finally says, his voice quiet, “I’ll go. I’ll go to the support group.”

* * *

Zayn calls Adele after his lunch and tells her to cancel his appointments for the rest of the day. He’s done this before, especially in the wake of Benny’s death, but Adele seems to have taken pity on him today; instead of reprimanding him for missing _another_ day of work, she agrees.

“So,” she starts after his schedule has been cleared, “how did your lunch with Harry and Louis go?”

“I’m going to go to the group,” Zayn says immediately, saving her the trouble of blank asking if he had agreed to go.

He can almost hear her smiling through the receiver, “That’s great, Zayn. If you want, I can go ahead and call the group to add your name to their roster--”

Zayn shakes his head, “No, Adele, you don’t have to do that. I think...I think I have to do this on my own. But if I need you, I’ll ask, okay?”

Adele is silent on the other end but she agrees, “Okay, just let me know. Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon.”

They hang up and when he breathes, he swears he feels a little lighter.

When he gets home, he walks into the kitchen to make himself a cuppa, the weight of the pamphlet in his pocket more noticeable. He really just wants to get this over with. He realizes now that he needs it more than he thought he did, but that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t want to run to the hills and never look back. 

But then he remembers the relieved looks on Harry and Louis’ face when he told them he would go, and the way the knot in his chest loosened a little bit afterwards, and he knows that he should definitely follow through.

He pulls out his phone and the pamphlet, and actually reads the pamphlet past the cover.

The pamphlet is informative, and it details the times, dates, and locations of specific support groups. His eyes find the specific group that Adele has circled for him (which is only a few blocks from his house), and underlined the name of the moderator of it. 

He looks down at his phone, glaring at it, as if it’s his mortal enemy. He debates, again, whether or not he should call. Is it worth it? Is it worth going through the pain all over again? Zayn’s already done it once, he _knows_ he won’t survive another go at it. 

His thoughts drift to his lunch with Harry and Louis, the words _we need you back_ echoing in his mind. His heart clenches, and it feels like the knife that’s been settled in the vessel since Benny died is being twisted at the endless stream of _we need you back we need you back we need you back._

Zayn squints his eyes closed and opens them again to rid his mind of the thoughts. Hands shaking and eyes stinging, Zayn takes a deep breath as he picks up his phone and dials the number on the pamphlet.


	2. Chapter One

* * *

_I can't stop the rain_ _  
But I will keep you dry  
If the shore feels far away  
I'll be by your side  
When the storms arise  
I will shelter you  
When your sky is gray  
I will give you blue_

**(Give You Blue – Allen Stone)**

* * *

Zayn knows his hands are sweating as he picks up the phone and brings it to his ear. It’s only a bloody phone call, for Christ’s sake. He can _do_ this.

After a few rings a man picks up, introducing himself as Dr. James Corden, and Zayn immediately takes to him, already feeling more comfortable about the whole support group thing than he thought he would ever feel. Dr. Corden (“please, call me James,” he tells him.) answers all of his questions and they agree that Zayn will start attending the group that Friday. 

When they hang up, Zayn feels better, but still nervous, and he’s itching to just go into his room and hide under the covers until he has to go to group.

* * *

The rest of the week goes by in a blur; it’s full of meetings for an upcoming novel that Zayn and his team are working on, phone conversations with the author, a few lunch and dinner meetings regarding film rights, and an impromptu coffee date with Adele.

It all passes by so fast that he almost misses when Friday rolls around, and he gets a reminder e-mail that he is supposed to attend the support group in the evening. He rubs his temples and checks the clock: 4:30 PM. He’ll have to leave in an hour if he wants to get there on time. 

As if on cue, Adele walks into his office and plops down into the chair across from his desk and kicks up feet up onto it.

“You know, just because we’re friends doesn’t mean you can abuse my furniture like that.” Zayn says, attempting to push her feet off of his desk.

Adele gives him a playful smile and rolls her eyes, “I ordered this desk for you, I can do as I please.”

Zayn doesn’t even bother arguing with her, because he knows somehow he will lose, anyway. 

He catches her looking at the clock and she gives him a look, “Shouldn’t you be leaving for the group soon?” 

Zayn shrugs, suddenly feeling nervous and apprehensive about the whole thing again. That feeling, however, is momentarily forgotten when Adele clears her throat,

“You should go home, Zayn.”

“What?”

"You heard me. You’ve been busting your ass all week. Go home early and recoup before going to your group.”

Zayn considers this and hums, knowing he could probably do with leaving early after the week he has had. 

He reminds Adele of what needs to be done on his end and gives the paperwork to her--knowing that she would do a better job than any of his associates--and grabs his coat before leaving for the day. 

He makes it home with 45 minutes before he has to leave for the group, and he realizes that now he’s left alone with his thoughts in an empty house that would normally be filled with childish giggles and cries to watch Bob The Builder on a loop. 

Zayn starts to feel his throat close again at the thought of him, and he goes into the living room to turn on the telly, hoping to see something that will distract him. He lands on a random news station and watches it mindlessly, finding nothing particularly interesting about it. He watches the clock from time to time, wishing time would fly so he could _leave_ already and face the inevitable pain he knows he will at the group. 

Finally, it’s time for Zayn to leave and he honestly couldn’t be more relieved. He doesn’t know what’s worse--sitting in his house all alone when only seven months ago he wasn’t, or heading to a support group to talk about the reason he has to sit in his house all alone. 

He decides that maybe dealing with Benny’s death is probably the lesser of two evils. He didn’t think it would be so easy for him to just agree with Louis, Harry, and Adele when they brought up going to the support group. He thought he would put up more of a fight, and he’s pretty sure his friends thought he would as well. Zayn’s always been opinionated, and if he didn’t want to do something, everyone knew better than to argue him on it. But Zayn is tired. He’s so tired of his life, of how he feels, and how empty his life has been for the last seven months. 

Living and existing are the same, but he wonders what his life would be like if they were different. 

He gets up and heads towards the door, pocketing his iPod and making sure to pick up his lighter and cigarettes before closing and locking the door behind him. He plugs in his headphones and makes his way to the support group, letting ‘ _she took a light and left me in the dark hey she left me with a broken heart hey now I’m on my own’_ drown out the buzzing from the busy street. He drags his feet as he walks the few blocks to the community center where the support group is being held. He makes it there with a few minutes to spare and goes to the front desk of the community center. A blonde guy with a blinding grin and crinkly eyes greets him.

“Hey mate, how ya’ doin?”

His Irish accent is thick and Zayn doesn’t even get a second to comment on it before he’s speaking again,

“M’ name’s Niall. What can I help ya with?” 

Zayn smiles warily, his heart thumping in his chest, “Erm, hi. I’m looking for the support group?”

Niall gives him a kind smile, his eyes warm. “We have a lot of them going on today. Which one are you looking for?”

Zayn shifts uncomfortably. “The one run by Dr. Corden?” 

Niall nods and gives him a sympathetic look before handing Zayn some forms and a pen. He seems to sense Zayn’s uneasiness,

“You’re a little early, which is good. Might give you the chance to talk to James. He’s really great, ya know. He’s been doing this kind of thing for years.” He hands Zayn a clipboard and taps it with the pen, “Just fill those forms out and hand them back to me. Once you’re done I can take you back to the group room.”

Zayn takes the clipboard, relieved to hear more good things about James. Most of the forms are easy, save for the main intake form:

_Please write the relationship between you and your loved one (son, daughter, etc)._

_Age of your loved one at the time of death?_

_Date of death?_

_Cause of death?_

It’s questions like these that make all of this real for Zayn. It makes it all _too_ real. He wants to run away, hide in a sea of Benny’s stuffed animals and never come out. 

He doesn’t, though. He answers the questions, his heart cracking just a little bit more with every answer he gives. 

He thinks if Harry and Louis were here, they would be proud of him for making it this far. he wishes they could be here now, even though he told them he would be able to do this on his own--that he _needed_ to do this on his own. 

He brings the clipboard back up to Niall, who takes it and stands up, “Great. Let me show you around.”

He follows Niall around the front desk and into a long hallway with what looks like classrooms all the way until the end. Niall is talking a mile a minute, and it’s only until Niall stops in front of a closed door that Zayn realizes he hadn’t been listening to Niall at all. 

“Sorry, what was that?” Zayn asks, his cheeks reddening.

Niall chuckles, “Don’t worry about it, I tend to run my mouth like that a lot. I’ll let it slide this time, because you’re new. But this is where your group will be held. We have the adult group here, and the group for the kids next door. We run them at the same time so both parents and their kids are occupied and getting support.”

Zayn hums and Niall gives him a soft stare, “Do you have any other questions?”

Zayn shakes his head, his fingers already trembling, “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“No problem. I’ll be up front if you need anything.”

He leaves Zayn alone, and he immediately wishes Niall would walk in with him or at least talk his ear off so he has something to distract him. 

He sighs and grips the handle before turning it and opening the door. He’s met with 8 or so chairs set up in a circle, and a man in dress pants, shirt and tie at what Zayn assumes to be the coffee table, putting up plastic cups and napkins.

The man turns around and smiles at Zayn. He wipes his hands on his pants and holds out one of them, 

“Hi, I’m Dr. Corden, but you can call me James. You must be Zayn.”

Zayn shakes his hand and is immediately at ease again, his chest loosening just a bit, “Yeah, hi. I’m a little early.”

James chuckles, “That’s quite alright. You can either sit down and wait for group to start, or you can help me put out the rest of these plates, if you want.” 

“I don’t mind helping.” Zayn says, and James grins as he hands him the plates.

They chat while they set up, but not too much. It’s just the right amount, Zayn thinks, because too much chatter might make him go crazy, but too little will have him lost in his own thoughts, and that might be catastrophic.

By the time they finish setting up, it’s almost time to start group, and a few other group members have arrived and sat down in a seat. He follows suit and takes one near the coffee table. He pulls out his phone to send a quick text to Harry just so he has something to do with his hands. 

A few minutes later, James sits down, which Zayn guesses is the sign that means group is about to start. Zayn looks around the room to see that two or three chairs are still empty.

“A few of our members are probably dropping their kids off at the children’s support group next door. I don’t want to start without them, so let’s wait a few minutes.”

It’s just after he says this that a few more people walk into the group. Zayn looks down to avoid eye contact with any of them, knowing that he will definitely be noticeable because he’s new to the group.

James claps his hands and grins, “Right. That seems to be about it. So, hello everyone! Welcome back to those who have been here before. We have some new members joining us, so to those: welcome to the support group for grieving parents. Everyone here has been through, more or less, what you have been through. We are here to offer support, advice, and no judgement whatsoever. We understand the challenges of losing a child, and we want you to know that we are here for you.”

Zayn swallows thickly before James speaks again, “So, with that being said, let’s all go around the room and introduce ourselves. State your name, why you are here, and how long you’ve been attending group.”

Zayn immediately clenches and his palms begin to sweat. He knew, in reality, that he would have to speak about Benny eventually, but he didn’t think it would be right in the first ten bloody minutes of his first group. 

The first person stands; she’s a tall, thin woman with sun kissed hair and kind eyes, “Hi. My name is Caroline. My eldest son, John, died in a car crash when he was fourteen years old, so about two years ago. I have one other son, Cameron, who is in the group next door. He’s ten. I’ve been in group for a year and a half.”

James smiles at her, “Thank you, Caroline.” He nods to the man sitting next to her, “Go ahead, Liam.”

Zayn watches as the man directly across from him named Liam stands up. He’s on the taller side, with dark hair and some stubble on his chin. He has brown, puppy-like eyes as well, and Zayn doesn’t know how that’s even possible when the man looks to be over thirty years old--but Zayn finds them mesmerizing. He notices Liam’s holding a worn cap that he’s wringing in his hands nervously. He catches Liam’s eye quickly before he speaks.

“Uhm, hi. M’ names Liam. My youngest daughter died of a childhood disease when she was two. Her name was Edith. I have another daughter, Jeannie, who is nine now. She’s next door, too. I’ve been in here for about a year now. And it’s been great, really.”

Zayn feels shockwaves shoot through his body when Liam glances at him again before he sits down, and he swears he blushes. A few other people introduce themselves before they get to Zayn, and James smiles at him knowingly,

“Why don’t you introduce yourself to the group.”

Zayn swallows the lump in his throat before he stands, and the fear of being judged and scrutinized is completely washed away by how earnest and sincere everyone seems to be looking at him. It calms Zayn down, a bit. He manages to catch eyes with Liam once more before starting,

“Uhm, hi. My name is Zayn. I--uh--” he clears his throat because he knew this would come; the inevitable tears at the mention of his son. His eyes are welling with tears and he sniffs audibly, “Uhm.”

“It’s okay. Take your time,” James says in a whisper that Zayn thinks is meant just for him. Zayn looks down and stuffs his hands in his pockets for a moment before looking up.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. This is harder than I thought it would be,” he manages, though his is voice breaking.

James gives him a warm look, “No one said it would be easy. You’re doing great.”

Zayn wipes his wet eyes and smiles before taking a deep breath. “Right, sorry. My name is Zayn. Uhm. Ben-- _my son_ died of childhood cancer when he was three and a half. He didn’t have any other siblings.” He smiles weakly, wiping his eyes again, “Clearly, this is my first time in group.”

That earns a few soft chuckles from the group members, and Zayn notices Liam’s lips quirk upwards. He earns a nod of approval from James and sits back down.

“Thank you, Zayn. And welcome to the group.” James shifts in his seat before addressing him again, “I don’t think we caught your son’s name.”

Zayn meets his gaze and swallows thick again, not sure how he is able to do this without falling apart and crumbling to the ground.

“I didn’t say it.” Zayn chokes out. 

James considers him softly and leans forward, his posture open, “I know it’s hard, Zayn. We all do. But I think it would be great if you could tell us what it is. Can you try?”

Zayn swallows down the sob that is begging to escape his throat and breathes deep. “I nev--I haven’t said it since...since. Uhm. Since he died.”

He feels everyone’s eyes on him, but they aren’t judging or mocking him. Zayn feels as though they understand him, like they all know what he’s going through. Like they all know how acidic it feels to speak the name of your dead child. It makes Zayn uneasy but comfortable at the same time. 

“We all grieve in different ways, Zayn, as I’m sure you know,” James says, turning to the rest of the group, “Acceptance is key, I think, and others here can attest to it.”

There are grunts of agreement and small encouragements from other members of the group. Zayn doesn’t look up from where his eyes are trained on his hands, but in his peripherals he sees Liam gesture towards him. 

James speaks again, “I am not going to force you to say his name if you don’t want to--I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and everyone works at a different speed. But just know that this is a safe space, and we’re all here for you. And also sometimes, saying it just once makes it easier to say later on.”

Zayn clasps his hands together and glances up at James, who has an open and kind look on his face. He looks around the room and others are simply looking at him, not _staring_ at him like he’s some kind of weirdo on display. They are looking at him the same way James is, and it makes him breathe a little easier.

“Benny,” he finally says, the words rolling off of his tongue it makes his insides burn. “My son’s name was Benny.”

James nods at him and grins, “Thank you, Zayn. Well done, well done. I’m very proud of you for saying his name. I am going to move on now, is that alright?”

Zayn nods quickly and looks up and meets Liam’s gaze. He gives Zayn a small smile and looks to the person speaking now, who also happens to be new to the group.

The rest of the introductions are made and James speaks again,

“Right, so, why don’t we all take a five to ten minute break before we start up again. There is coffee, tea, and biscuits over at the table, so help yourself. I’ll see you back in here in ten minutes.”

Zayn immediately stands as does everyone else, and he feels the weight of the cigarette pack and lighter he brought in his jacket pocket. He exits the room swiftly, making his way towards the front of the center and out of the double doors, finding a bench next to an ash tray. He lights the cigarette and takes a drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs the way he used to back when he was in Uni. When he exhales, he imagines he’s letting all of his emotions burn away in the smoke that he lets into the air. He thinks it helps, if only for a moment. 

He takes a few more drags and puts it out, wanting to get coffee before group starts back up. He makes it back inside with quite a few minutes left to spare and heads to the coffee table. The other members of the group are talking amongst themselves, or playing on their phones while sipping their drinks. He’s pouring his coffee when he feels someone next to him.

“Hey, can you pass the cream?” 

Zayn glances to his side and Liam is there, holding a cup of black coffee and a biscuit. 

He silently nods and reaches over for the cream, handing it to Liam.

“Thanks.” He says with a smile as he pours it into his coffee. Liam is so close that Zayn feels the heat radiating off of Liam’s body and his heart quickens when their arms brush against each other. 

Zayn’s finished making his coffee and is turning around to go back to his seat when Liam clears his throat, “That was really great ya know, what you did. It must not have been easy.”

Zayn looks up quickly enough to catch Liam looking at him intently, but with a kind smile playing on his lips. Zayn’s throat almost closes but he shrugs and stares into his coffee as he stirs it some more, “Is it always this hard?”

Zayn doesn’t realize what he’s asking until it’s out of his mouth, but Liam doesn’t seem to mind,

“Sometimes it is. But it gets easier the more you come to group. You’re doing a lot better than I did when I first started.”

Zayn lets out a small laugh and Liam grins, “I’m serious. I didn’t talk for a month after I had started. James was really patient with me, though. He is with everyone. We’ve struck gold with him.” 

“He seems nice.” Zayn says, “I’m Zayn, by the way.”

Liam takes the hand that Zayn offers and shakes it, his skin warm against Zayn’s cold hands, “I remember from introductions. I’m Liam, and I’m glad you’re coming to group.” It’s then that James enters the room and takes his seat in the circle.

“Okay everyone, let’s bring it back.”

Liam releases Zayn’s hand and smiles at him again before sitting back down in his seat. Zayn follows suit, not ignoring the way his hand is still tingling as he does so. He meets eyes with Liam again, and if Zayn’s heart pounds to the thought of the crinkle in Liam’s eye when he smiles, he does his best to ignore it

(which is a lost cause).

The rest of group goes by quickly, and Zayn is surprised when James claps his hands and ends the group, reminding everyone to return the following week. 

Zayn rises from his seat slowly, his legs itching to bolt out of that room, but his eyes connecting with Liam’s stops him. Zayn nods at him and he tries _so_ hard not to blush when Liam shoots him a small smile and a half wave before leaving the room. 

He’s collecting the rest of his belongings when he hears a voice call him name, “Zayn.”

Zayn turns around and nods at James. James leans on his chair, giving him a concerned look, 

“I thought I would check in with you to see what you think of the group so far. What did you think of your first session?”

Zayn bites his lip, “To be honest, it’s very overwhelming.”

James hums, “I can imagine.”

“But it’s okay,” Zayn admits, “I knew it would be hard, and I don’t expect it to get easier. It really made me think about him--”

“Benny.” James whispers.

Zayn’s throat feels like it's about to close, but he nods, “R-right, B--Benny.” He feels like his entire body is on fire once the name rolls off his tongue, and he tries to ignore it for his own sanity. “It made me think about him in ways I haven’t after he died. It’s scary. But I know I need to move on, even though it’s hard.” 

“Well, I’m glad you’re not going to run out of here screaming,” James pauses. “And you’re right, it is hard. But it gets easier--I think I might have heard Liam say that to you earlier.”

Zayn shrugs, “Yeah, I know. But I think I’ll believe it when I see it.”

James chuckles and pats him on the shoulder, “If there’s anyone you should trust in this group, it’s Liam.”

Zayn raises his brow questioningly, “Oh yeah?”

James nods, “Probably the nicest and most honest guy I’ve ever met in my life.” 

James squeezes his shoulder before he gets begged off by one of the women from group, and Zayn takes this opportunity to collect the rest of his things and leave the room before anyone else asks him any questions. He manages to break free of the room, but the hallway is crowded with parents, including Liam.

Zayn supposes he hasn’t really had much time to think about what Liam’s eldest daughter looks like since he found out Liam had another daughter, but he immediately recognizes her as Liam’s, simply from her smile. It’s small but radiant when she connects eyes with Liam, and Zayn watches as he scoops her up into his arms and presses a kiss to her cheek. 

For a moment, Zayn thinks the moment between the father and his child is lovely, but then that moment passes, and the voice inside Zayn’s head that screams _Benny will never be that tall_ and _you’ll never kiss Benny’s cheek again_ is what drives him to ignore the looks of concern he gets when he runs out of the center and back to his flat.

* * *

The weekend goes by in a blur of Thai takeaway, manuscript revisions, phone calls about nothing with Harry, and Erik Hassle’s steady _‘I’m wrapped around your finger I’m digging in the dirt I’m so deep into this shit I can taste the earth’_ on repeat until dusk on Sunday. All Zayn does all weekend is work and he likes that--it makes him forget everything, even if it’s just for a little while

(Although, he does pass Benny’s room every day, but he’d be lying if he said the thought of Liam’s _it gets easier_ doesn’t run through his mind every time he passes the door). 

* * *

“...so, how was it?”

Zayn nearly winces as his feeble attempts to rush past Adele’s desk on Monday in order to avoid this exact question clearly didn’t work.

Zayn turns around and comes face to face with a smirking yet nervous-looking Adele. Zayn in this moment tries to decide if he has the energy to do a back and forth with Adele, or if it is even worth it because he knows he is just going to tell her anyway.

He decides to give in. 

“It was actually not that bad.”

Adele lets out an audible relieved sigh, “I’m so glad to hear that. Do you think you will go again?”

Zayn shrugs. To be honest, he really _isn’t_ sure if he will go back. While the thought of Liam’s light eyes and comforting demeanor didn’t necessarily escape him over the weekend, he knows that opening up about Benny is not going to be easy.

“I might. I just don’t know. It is easier to talk about it, but what if it gets harder over time? I can’t handle that Adele. I can’t.”

Adele gives him an understanding look. “I know. But maybe the group will help with the times that will be hard. I don’t think anyone expects this to be easy” she pauses, “and I think you owe it to yourself to see what life would be like without this hanging over you and consuming you.”

Zayn is quiet, unsure of what to say next. Luckily, he doesn’t have to think of anything to say, because it’s like Adele can read his mind, and she clears her throat and shuffles some papers on her desk,

“You have a few meetings this afternoon, and about 3 messages already from Harry and Louis--”

“--I’ll call them later on--”

“--and your mother.” Adele finishes weakly. 

Zayn closes his eyes for a moment, breathes in through his nose and sighs.

“What did you tell her?”

Adele shrugs, “You were in a meeting. You’ll call her back.”

Zayn nods, “Thanks, I--”

“--but you should call her back." Adele interrupts. "Can’t avoid her forever.”

Zayn looks at her and nods, then turns on his heels and walks into his office, making sure to close the door behind him.

 _Can’t avoid her forever_ rings in his mind for the rest of the day. 

* * *

“I want you all to think of a memory.”

Zayn feels his body tense at James’ words at the next meeting, his hands balling up into fists and his heart thumping in his chest. He looks up from the spot he’s been staring at on the floor and his eyes are immediately met with soft brown ones.

His feels calmer, but his heart thumps for different reasons when Liam gives him a comfortable quirk of the lips. 

“A memory where you are with your child who has died,” James continues, “A positive memory. One where the both of you were happy.” James looks around the room and nods, “Does anyone want to go first?”

The room is dead silent, and Zayn imagines that this must happen a lot in support groups--dead silence. Because really, who wants to be the first person to speak about their dead child?

“I’ll go.” Zayn’s heart drums when he hears Liam’s voice echo through the room among the silence and James smiles at him,

“Great. Go on then.”

Liam clears his throat and wrings his cap in his hands again, “Well, Edith was around one year old, and I was trying to teach her how to walk. She--she had this amazing smile, ya know? She could light up a room with it, I tell ya. Erm, anyway, I was holding her hands and standing her up y’know? And we were walking together--I mean I was helping her, but we were walking. And she was smiling and laughing, and she called me ‘ _da_ ’ and it was just a moment for me and her, and like, I know I have another daughter who I got to have this experience with, but it was all on me this time, because Sophia, well, she’s not around, and it was my job to do this--do _that_.” 

The room is silent and James pats his knee comfortingly, “What was that experience like for you? Having this job fall on your shoulders?”

Liam grins and looks up, like he’s looking at _her_ , “It was the greatest job in the world, teaching her that kind of stuff, being her dad. Being a dad _is_ the best job in the world. I love being a dad. I get to be one to Jeannie every day, and it’s great.

“I just feel like, like, like sometimes I’m missing out. Like I said, I still have Jeannie, and I love her more than anyone on the planet, and she’s my favorite person in the world. But, I still feel like something’s missing sometimes. Like I should be helping another little girl walk across the street, or I should be serving two little bowls of ice cream instead of just one. I feel like my job is supposed to be being a dad to two little girls, not just one.”

Liam ducks his head to wipe a tear from his eye, and he sniffs before looking up and shrugging. He looks back down at his cap and wrings it tighter, and Zayn can make out the veins in his hands when he does so. 

James considers him, “You’re right, you know--It is great, being a dad. I’m sure others here can agree with you. But I think it’s important, for you and everyone in here, to know that it’s okay to feel like something is missing, or like you’re missing out on experiences even if there is a living child.”

Liam looks up and nods and James, before giving him a small smile. “That’s one I’ll have to try to wrap my head around.”

The group chuckles and James claps his hands together, “I have no doubt you will, Liam. I am going to move on now, is that alright?”

Liam nods, “‘Course. Thanks for listening, everyone.”

James moves on to the next person who shares, (Nora, Zayn thinks her name is) and Zayn can’t help but watch Liam in the aftermath of his disclosure. He seems okay, but Zayn can tell something is off with him. Zayn tries to focus, but he can’t help his eyes when they fall back to Liam, who is now sitting forward in his chair, leaning on his knees, eyes trained on Nora. He nods his head when others give feedback and cracks a smile when Nora makes a joke. Zayn didn’t realize how long he was watching him until Liam’s eyes met his. Zayn feels heat rush to his cheeks and looks anywhere else, hoping it wasn’t obvious he was staring. 

James calls for a break after the next person shares and Zayn heads over to the table for a cup of coffee and a biscuit. He sees Liam out of the corner of his eye pull up next to him and start making himself a plate of cheese squares. 

“Alright Zayn.” He says to him.

Zayn nods, blushing. “How are you doing?”

Liam shrugs, “I’m doing alright, considering.”

Zayn hums to himself and finishes making his plate. He turns around and leans against the table, eyeing the circle of chairs. He expects Liam to find his way back to his seat but he doesn’t, instead he notices Liam takes a similar position to Zayn. They stay there for a few minutes, and Zayn finds the company nice, even if they aren’t saying anything to each other. 

Zayn realizes in that moment--just with another human being standing next to him without asking him a million times if he’s okay or mothering him--that he has been missing this part of life, subconsciously craving it, even. _Connection_.

Liam shifts his feet next to him, and takes a sip of his coffee. Zayn feels his arm brush his before he hears his voice, “So, how are you liking the group so far?”

“I like it a lot.” Zayn is surprised at how upbeat he sounds when he says it.

Liam points out just as much, “You sound surprised.”

Zayn chuckles, “I kind of am. Didn’t think this would help at all. It’s been good to--to talk, and to listen.”

Liam grins at that, and Zayn can’t help but bask in his warm smile and dimples. “Good. It’s great. If it can help me, it can help anyone.”

Zayn hums and takes in Liam again, noticing a difference in how he was earlier in the group. He seems more relaxed and at ease. He doesn’t mean to be so bold, but the words slip out before he can stop himself. 

“How do you do it?” Zayn asks.

“Do what?” 

“Talk about Edith like you did today? You make it look so easy.”

Liam sighs, “I’m used to it. Talking about someone you love who is gone isn’t easy, and it won’t necessarily get easier, but it gets more tolerable as time goes on. When I talk about her, I go on autopilot. It’s...it’s like a dullness.”

“Oh.” Zayn says softly. His mind starts to run to thoughts of Benny, but Liam’s voice cuts them off.

“Of course. At the same time, I realized that the dullness doesn’t have to be all the time. I can love her and miss her, and not allow that to take over my life. I can’t afford to.”

Liam looks towards the door, where right outside, his daughter was probably in group talking about the same things they were talking about. 

“How long did it take you to figure that out?”

Liam shrugs, “It took a bit. But every step towards it is worth it, I promise. The good, the bad, the ugly, it’s important.” 

Zayn takes his last sip of coffee and laughs to himself before looking back at him, “I hope I can get to that point.”

Liam pats Zayn’s shoulder and squeezes it slightly, and it makes Zayn’s hairs stand up. “You will.”

Zayn is finding his words to say something, _anything_ back, when James calls them back into group for closing. Zayn goes to take his seat and finds that Liam follows him and takes the seat next to him. Zayn gives him a confused and surprised look when Liam flashes him a sly smile, “These seats aren’t assigned.” 

Zayn's heart does a backflip and a blush creeps onto his face, hopefully going unnoticed by the man now sitting next to him.

He takes in Liam’s wicked grin and shining eyes, and in the same breath that he misses Benny, he's wanting to find more reasons to get to know Liam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and for your kind words! I hope this next chapter didn't disappoint!
> 
> Again, I edited this myself so I apologize for any mistakes. Please comment and let me know what you think! Just be kind, if you could! <3


	3. Chapter Two

* * *

_So I'll hold you tonight like I would if you were mine  
_ _To hold forever more  
_ _And I'll savor each touch that I've wanted so much  
_ _To feel before, to feel before  
_ _How beautiful it is  
_ _Just to be like this_

**(I Want To Be With You - Mandy Moore)**

* * *

It’s a few days later and Zayn is in a rush, and _late_ . Harry is going to _kill_ him.

Zayn speed walks from the office and makes the trek towards his neighborhood where he planned on meeting Harry for dinner and drinks. He makes a mental note to not let Adele distract him with decor ideas again, as she is the culprit for his tardiness. Who knew there were so many different types of fucking _curtain rods_?

He makes it to the restaurant in record time (breaking many a sweat), spotting Harry immediately after rushing in, startling the hostess as he does so. He gives her a quick apology and swoops towards the table. He takes a seat across from Harry, who taps his watch humorously.

“Only five minutes late today, Malik. I’m impressed.” Harry greets with a smile.

Zayn rolls his eyes and shrugs off his coat, “My apologies, your majesty.”

Harry waves him off and hands him a menu, “Excuses, excuses. You know when Louis is gone at conferences I rely on you, and you alone, to entertain me when I do not have work to do. Who knows what kinds of things I could have gotten up to in the five minutes you left me to my own devices!” 

Zayn laughs at his friend, “You’ve been with Louis for too long--now you’re turning into his clone.”

Harry dismisses Zayn again with a very Louis-like hand and takes a look at his own menu, “Yeah yeah yeah. In any case, I’m glad you’ve decided to grace me with your presence. I’ve missed you.”

At his words, Zayn realizes that, _fuck_. He’s really missed Harry.

“I missed you too, man.” Zayn says. The smile he receives could light up the entire restaurant. 

Harry and Zayn settle into easy conversation about just everyday things as they order drinks and decide what they are eating. Zayn actually thinks he’s off the hook having to talk about _anything_ remotely emotional when their drinks arrive when Harry says it.

“Sooooo,” he starts as flippantly as he can, though Zayn can tell he’s trying _too_ hard to be casual, “how’s the group going?”

Zayn freezes, and his heart falls through his chest and out of his butt. His grip on his drink tightens and he feels his throat close up again, as it does every time anything surrounding Benny is mentioned. He looks down, fiddles with his napkin, and tries to remember whatever fucking skills James talks about in group...something about breathing, counting colors in a room. Zayn tries to focus on his breath, and finds that after a few seconds he’s no longer in a panic. He’s brought out of it fully by Harry, who gently shakes his arm on the table.

“Alright mate?”

Zayn huffs and attempts to give Harry a smile, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

Harry immediately shakes his head, cheeks flushed, “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, Harry." Zayn says quickly, "I--it’s okay. The group. It’s alright so far. I’m--I’m learning things. It’s helping a little bit.”

Harry lights up at that, “Really?”

Zayn’s heart breaks a little at the hopefulness in Harry’s eyes and he wishes he had as much hope as Harry does, “Yeah. The doctor who runs it is pretty nice. It’s hard, and I hate going sometimes but it’s good to talk about it. Talk about h--him.” Zayn’s voice is shaky as he speaks, but he _did_ , and that’s progress.

Zayn looks up at Harry from his hands and he feels better from the comfort that Harry’s look gives him, “I’m so fucking happy it’s helping, Zayn. Really. I’m happy for you.” 

“Me too.” Zayn says (even though Benny’s laugh rings through his ears and his heart sinks a little).

“I hope someday we can talk about him without...without…”

Zayn holds up his hand and stops him, if only to finish his sentence, “without me having a blown panic attack about it?”

Harry nods sheepishly, and struggles to meet Zayn’s gaze, “I know it’s not easy having to talk about him, so I won’t force you to. Just know that when you want to and you’re ready, you can come to me.”

Zayn smiles at his best friend and feels his heart swell at his compassion. He reaches over and squeezes Harry’s hand, his voice full, “I will, I promise.”

Their food arrives as Harry squeezes his hand back and releases it, clearing his throat as he does so.

“Right, now that we got that out of the way, we can get on to something less sappy.”

Zayn literally feels ten pounds lighter now that the topic has changed. For all that he has learned in group, he isn’t necessarily ready to jump into a full conversation about what he’s learning, or about Benny for that matter. He knows he isn’t ready for that. 

He gives Harry a grateful smile and lifts a brow at him, “Like?”

Harry shrugs, although Zayn catches the mischievous look in his eyes, “Meet anyone interesting in these groups of yours?”

“Interesting?” Zayn questions, not sure what he means.

“Yeah,” Harry says simply, “anyone you wanna bang?” He asks simply.

Zayn splutters his drink, drops the fork he was holding onto his plate (which makes a loud _clang_ ! against the porcelain material) and his cheeks go pink, “ _Harry!_ ”

Harry is laughing so hard at Zayn’s sudden reaction that his eyes are watering, “Oh come on, Z. You’re telling me there is no one you wanna have another kind of _session_ with?” He wiggles his eyes in a stupid, mock-suggestive way and Zayn reaches over to give his shoulder a light shove.

“Oh come off it, Harry. No one wants to shag a mourning 31 year old with a dea--with _my_ issues.”

Harry shrugs as he takes another sip of his drink, “They’re all mourning _someone_ , Zayn. And besides, even people who are mourning need a good fuck.”

Zayn shakes his head at his best friend and laughs, “You are unbelievable.”

Harry quiets down but is still chucking when he starts again, “But really. There is no one there that has caught your attention?”

Zayn’s mind immediately goes to Liam, but he shakes his head, throwing that idea _right_ out the window--there’s no way that would even be possible. “I mean, everyone is pretty nice. But no, no one particularly interesting.”

Harry scoffs, “I find that hard to believe.”

Zayn frowns. “Why do you say that?”

Harry nods towards the large window behind Zayn, and points to it, “Because there is a blonde guy with a ‘Community Center Staff’ shirt trying to get your attention, and a very attractive bloke with him.”

Zayn turns around and his heart does a backflip when he follows Harry’s pointed finger and he spots Niall and Liam, the former waving wildly at him trying to get his attention. Zayn gives a half hearted, surprised wave back which, based on Niall’s excited expression, he takes as an invitation into the restaurant. Zayn catches Liam eye and he gives Zayn a small shrug as he follows Niall.

He turns from the window and is faced with an intrigued looking Harry, who could only quirk up his eyebrow before Niall and Liam are crashing their dinner. Zayn feels his cheeks flush pink as they approach the table, Harry giving him an amused smirk before turning to face the two gentlemen.

Niall grins at Harry like he’s the best thing since sliced bread and throws a hand out at Harry, “Hiya, m’name’s Niall. Sorry to crash your dinner here, but we saw Zayn in the window and we couldn’t pass by without inviting him with us.”

Harry shakes his hand, “Harry,” he introduces himself and looks to Zayn, “inviting him where?”

Zayn just shrugs at him, not knowing what Niall is referring to. Liam steps up next to Niall, and Zayn can’t help but take in his lean presence; Liam is actually dressed up in more formal attire than Zayn is used to seeing at group. A fitted light grey dress shirt covers his upper body well, while he dons khaki dress pants and black loafers. Zayn mostly is shocked by the fact that Liam’s cap is nowhere in sight.

He looks Liam in the eye now and he’s addressing him and Harry, “Nice to meet you,” he rubs the back of his neck when he meets Zayn in the eye, “We really didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just. My parents agreed to take Jeannie for the night and the group usually meets up for drinks at the Windmill down the road and we thought we would ask if you wanted to come--”

“--Zayn’s in.” Harry answers for Zayn, not meeting his eye.

Zayn does a double take and gives Harry a look, “I’m _what_?”

“Zayn’s in!” Niall exclaims decidedly, clapping Liam on the shoulder. Zayn gives Harry a hard stare, but doesn’t miss the quirk of the lip on Liam’s face at Niall’s exclamation.

Niall turns to Zayn, “so the bar's down the road here, just past the swank boutique with the wonky lookin’ mannequin in the window,” He gestures at their table, “Why don’t you meet us when you’re done--”

“--Oh we’re just finishing up.” Harry says quickly, fishing out his wallet and putting a few notes on the table to pay for dinner.

Zayn groans and gives Harry another look, “ _Harry_.”

Harry just responds with a look, his eyes fucking _twinkling_ , when Liam claps Niall on the shoulder and points a thumb to the front door, “We’ll wait for you outside, Zayn.”

Niall grins at Zayn and nods, “Yeah we’ll meet you out there.” Then without another word, they wave goodbye to Harry and move quickly towards the front door, Zayn sure as a way to avoid the scene he is about to make when he rips Harry a new one.

Instead of the fear Zayn wants him to feel as he gives him a cold look, Harry snickers as he stands up, throwing the jacket that’s behind his chair on his arm. Zayn stands up to do the same, and shoves Harry in the shoulder in the process.

Harry laughs again in response and rolls his eyes, and at this Zayn stalls, “Why did you do that?” 

His friend shrugs, “Seemed like a good opportunity for you to get out and get laid.” 

Zayn’s cheeks go crimson and Harry continues, “That Liam guy is quite attractive. You should go for it.” 

It’s Zayn’s turn to roll his eyes, “I’m not going to be going for anything. And besides...I don’t even think Liam is into guys.”

“Not sure about that. My gay-dar is never wrong, Z. Bet you good money he at least has dabbled in some fun with a guy.”

“Doubtful.” 

Harry shakes his head, grips Zayn by the shoulder and pulls him towards the doors.

“Regardless if he has or hasn’t, you should still go. Part of the healing process is branching out and expanding your support system.”

Zayn snorts at that, “Starting to sound like Louis there,” he says.

Harry sighs as they reach the doors, “Yeah. I miss him. I gotta call him when I get home and tell him all about this.” He squeezes his shoulder and turns in the opposite direction of the Windmill bar, “Have fun, yeah? Call me tomorrow!” 

Zayn and Harry part ways then, and Zayn turns to see Niall and Liam standing a bit aways from the door to the restaurant, Niall putting out the cigarette he lit.

“Hey, Zayn! Ready to go?” 

Zayn meets Liam’s shining eyes, and his stomach does a backflip before he nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

Liam grins and Niall leads the way, chatting loudly on the way. Liam walks in time with Zayn, shoulders brushing every so often as they weaved through the crowded streets. 

(Zayn’s heart doesn’t flutter when they touch and he doesn’t instinctively shift closer to Liam as they walk. He certainly does _not_ do that).

When they get to the Windmill, Zayn is surprised to find that the bar is not all that packed, and he immediately recognizes a few faces from group sitting in the back corner of the bar at a larger table. 

Zayn feels Liam’s hand on the small of his back before he hears him, “Come on, this way,” he says, and Liam steps ahead of him to lead the way to the group. 

Caroline spots them first and gives them a big wave and grin, “Liam, there you are! We’ve been waiting on you guys!”

“Sorry about that, we ran into Zayn and thought we’d invite him to tag along.” Niall says, plopping down in the seat next to her. 

Caroline’s eyes meet his, “Glad you could make it Zayn. Liam’s been wanting to invite you here since you started coming to group. Glad he finally got the balls to do it.” 

Zayn is glad in that moment that Liam is saying hello to other people and doesn’t hear what Caroline says because his whole body feels hot and his heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his skull. Zayn doesn’t say anything in response, and he doesn’t have time to, because Nora, _bless her,_ tugs at Zayn’s shirt from where she is sitting and gets his attention,

“Oh don’t tease him, Caroline. Let him be,” she says playfully. She pats the empty seat next to her and gestures for Zayn to sit, “Here, you can sit with me and we can drink and ignore everyone else.” 

Zayn laughs and sits down, smiling at Caroline, “Don’t think we can ignore you Caroline, can we?”

“You’d think right.” Caroline says with a laugh. She turns to someone who calls her name, leaving Nora to grab a bowl of chips from the middle of the table and settling it between them.

“So,” she starts, “I'm surprised to see you here.”

“You are?”

Nora nods and pops a chip in her mouth, “Yeah,” she says flippantly, “you don’t really talk to anyone at group. And if you do, it’s Liam. Which you know, Liam is the best person to talk to so it makes sense. We call him the ‘Welcoming Committee’.”

Zayn laughs at that and blushes again (he has been doing that a lot tonight) and looks down, ashamed, “I’m sorry I haven’t been more social. It’s not that I don’t like you guys. You know. Liam’s been...nice to me since I started group. Coming in the first place was really hard for me--” his throat starts to close again at the reminder of the beginning of all of this and he swallows the lump in his throat that always seems to grow when he thinks of Benny or any of _this_. 

The smile Nora gives Zayn reassures him and puts him a little at ease. She pats his knee and eyes him sympathetically, “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m glad you know about our little get-togethers now and I’m glad you’re here.” 

Zayn chuckles and is glad for a way to change the subject. He looks around their little nook of the bar that they had taken over, “Yeah, I didn’t think meetings were supposed to happen outside of group. You know, confidentiality and all that?” 

Nora nods, “You’re right. They _aren’t_ supposed to happen. But they do anyway. We can’t help it. Some of us have been going to this group for so long...we’re like a little family. Not a lot of other people understand what we are going through or they haven’t been through it themselves. I think after a while, going to group once a week wasn’t enough for us. We needed more support than the center offered. So Caroline started these little meetings and it’s been great. We just have one rule though.”

“What’s that?” Zayn asks.

Nora grins wickedly, “Dr. Corden can never know. Gotta keep it a secret.” 

Zayn laughs and shakes the hand that Nora sticks out to him. At this, Nora squeezes his hand and grins. She tips her head back and speaks loudly to the group, “You guys, _we got him_!” 

The whoops and cheers of the other group members is loud enough to nearly shake the floor underneath them. Zayn shakes his head and Nora claps him on the shoulder, “Welcome to the club, Zayn.”

She asks him if he wants a drink and when he declines, she goes to get one herself. Zayn is left alone when his phone goes off. His ringtone startles him, his breath hitching at the _'clap along if you feel like a room without a roof'_ echoing off the table, and his heart sinking when he seems it's his mother calling. 

He declines the call (because no he can’t, not yet) and turns his phone off. He is stuffing it back into his pocket when he feels someone take Nora’s seat next to him.

“Enjoying the night so far?” Liam asks, beer in hand and a small smile on his lips.

Zayn nods immediately, “I actually am, despite apparently getting initiated into a cult.” He adds playfully.

Liam laughs at this, “Yeah, well we’re not as bad as a cult. No mass suicide or any weird cult leaders. Just a group of sad men and women who cry at the sight of a stroller.” 

“Just so inviting, isn’t it?” Zayn says playfully.

“Absolutely. Anyone who doesn’t want to be a part of this is an idiot.”

Zayn laughs and they settle into a silence, as they tend to do. However, Zayn actually wants to _say_ something. He’s feeling brave when he speaks up, “You’re not wearing your cap tonight.”

Liam instinctively goes to run his hand over his hair. Zayn watches as his fingers glide over his skull, eyes meeting him when he speaks, “Yeah no, I had parent/teacher conferences tonight. Had to look proper for it and all.”

Zayn stills at that, and he isn’t sure what to say next when Liam does it for him, “I’m a teacher at the primary school down the road. Years 1 and 2.” He explains.

“Oh.” Zayn says simply. He suddenly finds himself feeling awkward. He knows a lot about this man on an emotional level, but he’s only finding out today what he does for work. He's still wondering about this when Liam asks,

“What do you do?” 

Zayn rubs the back of his neck at this, always feeling awkward when explaining his job, “I’m a book publisher in the city. Approve and edit manuscripts and things like that.”

Liam nods in approval, “Sounds like a big job.”

Zayn shrugs, thinking about his office and the stack of papers he has on his desk, “It is, but I like the work and I’m always editing, even when I’m not at the office.”

“Doesn’t that get tiring?” Liam asks.

“It can be, but I’d rather do that than think about...you know.” Zayn chokes out the last bit, his breath and fingers becoming shaky. He hides his hands by stuffing them into his pockets.

“I get that, it makes sense.” Liam says softly. “Distract yourself by burying into work so you don’t have to think about it. I did that the first few months after Edith died, except I still had to be a dad to Jeannie. So all my energy went into that. I became super-dad.”

Zayn hums, “How did that go for you?” He knows the answer as soon as it comes out of his mouth, but he wants to hear it from Liam anyway.

“Like shit,” Liam laughs, “I was so exhausted and tired from being so involved in Jeannie’s life--with the ballet classes and making the costumes and her schoolwork and trying to find time for my own prep for my job--that I ended up almost passing out at the wheel while driving to work.

“Got pulled over by an officer who thought I was drunk driving. When he saw I was knackered and after he found the condolences cards while he searched my car, he recommended Dr. Corden’s group. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“Wakeup call, it seems like.” Zayn says.

“Exactly. And I needed it, for myself and for Jeannie.” He pauses to take a swig of his beer and considers Zayn, “What was it for you?”

“What was what?”

Liam hums, “Your wakeup call. How did you end up in group?” 

Zayn chews his bottom lip before answering, “Slightly forced by my friends and assistant. I think they were tired of seeing me miserable and depressed for the past six months. A bit worried about me too, probably.”

“I’m sure. They are your friends. Harry’s one of them?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, smiling, “him and his partner Louis--he’s a counselor--suggested this group. Had to corner me into an intervention to get me to come. They’ve never had to sit me down like that before. I’ve never seen them so worried or scared about anything ever. They’re the bravest people I know. So to see that...” 

Zayn trails off and Liam’s looking down at the bottom of his drink as he answers, but Zayn can tell he’s still listening. When Liam looks up at him, his voice is soft,

“That was your wakeup call.” Liam finishes for him.

Zayn nods, “Yeah, pretty much.”

They sit in silence for a moment and Zayn is thinking about all of the ways he can describe the _brown_ of Liam’s eyes when a ringer goes off. Liam mumbles an apology and checks his phone and when he does, an adoring smile appears on his lips. He types a quick message and pockets his phone again.

“Sorry,” he says, “It was Jeannie. I swear, the girl is more tech savvy than I am.”

Zayn gives him a look, “She’s texting you at this hour? Must have been important.”

Liam shakes his head, “Sure, if you count the Christmas pageant as something that is important.”

Zayn laughs, “Christmas pageant? It’s September.” 

“That’s what I keep telling her!” Liam exclaims, all smiles, “She’s very worried about her audition, which is next month, mind you. Doesn’t know if she wants to dance or sing, or do both. And if she does either - what song she is going to use. It’s been the topic of conversation in the Payne household for days, Zayn.” Liam finishes, exasperated. 

Zayn chuckles, smiling fondly, “Sounds like she has a tough choice to make.”

“That she does. If only we could have the problems of a 9 year old.” 

“I think our lives would be much less depressing, don’t you think?”

Liam smiles, “Immensely so. But then again, if it were, we probably wouldn’t have met. So, it’s not so bad.”

Zayn sucks in a breath and his heart actually fucking _skips_ a beat. This is flirting, isn’t it? Do grieving fathers _flirt_ over their children? Is that what’s happening right now? Zayn’s mind is mush and the drinks from dinner with Harry are still swimming in his system, so he says,

“Yeah, ‘s not so bad.” 

Zayn thinks it’s the lamest thing he could think to say (and he has an English degree, for Christs’ sake), but they’re smiling at each other when the bartender rings the bell for last call, and it brings Zayn back to reality. He notices that the other group members are gathering their things and preparing to leave. Liam and Zayn do the same, and when they’ve got their jackets on, their eyes meet.

“You’ll be at the meeting Friday, yeah?” Liam asks.

“Yeah, ‘course. You?” Zayn asks, praying the hopefulness in his voice isn’t too obvious. 

It must not be, or maybe it is (he can’t tell), because Liam grins and nods, “Great. I’ll save you the seat next to mine.” 

Zayn responds with a “sounds good,” before Liam is off, waving goodbye to everyone as he heads towards the door. 

Zayn follows suit. He thanks Caroline and Nora, and after many assurances that he will be back next time they get together, he’s finally on his way home.

* * *

It’s pretty late by the time Zayn gets home and is in bed, already dreading having to go into work the next day and still keyed up from his interaction with Liam. He thinks about calling Harry and Louis to tell them what happened but decides against it--he’ll call them tomorrow. 

He’s still thinking about Liam when he finally settles into bed and he falls asleep pretty easily regardless. 

It’s the first time in months his dreams aren’t consumed by a two year old boy calling his name and reaching for him--

\--the images of a dive bar and Christmas lights and fit teachers in grey dress shirts do instead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You GUYS. I apologize for the long wait! Thank you all for your comments and kind words! I appreciate it so much and it's the thing that keeps me writing! Thank you thank you thank you!
> 
> As always, I edited this to the best of my ability. Am always looking for a Beta if anyone is interested. In any case, please forgive any spelling, grammar, or tense mistakes! I plan on doing a full re-edit of the entire fic once it's finished. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you've like it, and always remember to be kind <3
> 
> Thank you again for reading!! Next chapter is already started. Hope it is up soon, but I don't have a specific date in mind. Thanks for your patience as I get through this fic! <3
> 
> -Ray x

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it this far...thank you for reading!
> 
> Feel free to comment. if anyone wants to Beta...please, by all means, reach out. I love collaborating with others.
> 
> If you are going to comment, please be as kind as possible! I am a sensitive butterfly.
> 
> Thank you again :)
> 
> -Raven


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